


Coffeeshop Blues

by Skylark



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - College/University, Community: femslash12, F/F, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Get Together, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College/Coffeeshop AU. Crystal discovers that people are not always what they seem, cafés are worlds unto themselves, and it takes a village to start a romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffeeshop Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totty/gifts).



> Heroically beta'd by [Kuruk](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/kuruk) in record time. Thanks also to [](http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mercoledi**](http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://riselikelions.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://riselikelions.dreamwidth.org)**riselikelions** , who are responsible for all coffee(shop) accuracies. (Inaccuracies are my fault.)

“You’re crazy,” Silver tells her, walking with her across the quad. “You can’t take that many credits _and_ get a part-time job.”

“Can too,” Crystal replies mildly, shifting the stack of books she holds in her arms. “As long as I get one with flexible hours.”

“It won’t pay well.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What _is_ the point, then?”

Crystal glances at Silver; his hands are in his pockets, frowning as he stares at the ground. His feet scuff against the sidewalk as he keeps pace beside her. “I want to build my resume,” she says. “Besides—my mom could use the help.”

Silver scratches at the back of his neck, sighing. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t, when I’m telling you ‘I told you so,’” she says, laughing. They’ve reached the back door of Silver’s dorm, and he turns away to walk up the steps. “See you at dinner tonight?”

Silver doesn’t look back at her, too busy pulling his keycard out of his pocket. “Maybe.”

“Don’t study too hard,” she calls to him.

He snorts as he opens the door. “That’s pretty rich, coming from you.”

Crystal laughs and continues walking to her dorm, two buildings over.

\--

Crystal’s roommate is a girl named May, a fellow sophomore pursuing a major in Environmental Science. Crystal is going for a double major in Biology and Animal Behavior, and the two of them met in Bio 2030 last year. As the only two freshmen who had placed into the class, it was somewhat inevitable that they had become friends.

May’s not there when she opens the door, though. Crystal glances at the whiteboard on the wall and sees that May has scribbled _Soccer practice until 6:30!_ in her round, cheerful handwriting. She drops her books on her desk and heads to the showers.

The suit jacket her mother sent her doesn’t fit her perfectly; it’s a little big in the shoulders and the waist. She wears it anyway, remembering that the interview workshop she’d attended said to always bring a second layer that you could take off, just in case. She puts on her best black skirt to go with it, the mary janes she never wears, her favorite star earrings, and heads towards her first job interview.

\--

The door jingles when she opens the door, and Crystal steps into a room smelling strongly of coffee and spice. Nothing inside the shop is perfect—the sketches on the walls are in smudged pastels, the music is folksy and low-fi, the tables and chairs mismatched—but the place itself is neat, the floor clean and the countertops polished. The atmosphere of the place feels a little disjointed, quirkily casual. Crystal can’t decide if she likes it or not, but she can think of a lot of students who would.

She slips her jacket off and loops it over her arm, but even in her button-down shirt and pencil skirt she feels a little overdressed. “Hello?” she ventures, hearing her voice echo through the back of the shop.

“One second!” someone shouts back, and a few moments later a girl comes out with a tray of cupcakes and a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Crystal—the sign outside says you're hiring?”

An older woman also steps through the doorway, dusting white-floured hands on her apron. The younger girl turns and kneels out of view, and a moment later Crystal sees her sliding the tray into the display case. “Oh, you're applying? Wonderful. I’m Cynthia, the owner of the Kass—”

“The Cassie café!” the other girl chirps, straightening and wiping her hands on her pink apron.

“—The Kassiope café,” Cynthia finishes with a fond glance in the other girl’s direction. "And this is Dawn." Cynthia is wearing all black, and her manner is professional and calm. She gives off the same aura as some of Crystal’s favorite professors, and Crystal relaxes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Crystal says, reaching out for a handshake. An amused look flits across Cynthia’s face as she reaches across the counter to take Crystal’s hand, flour still caught in creases of her palm.

“There’s no need to be so formal. It’s only a café,” she says. Crystal thinks of the jacket still slung over her arm and colors slightly.

Dawn is already opening the hatch that separates the counter from the rest of the shop. “Let’s talk over here,” Cynthia says, gesturing to a back corner of the shop, filled with sofas and a low table that stands between them.

Crystal sits in one of the armchairs as Dawn and Cynthia arrange themselves on the loveseat against the wall. She tries to sit up straight, but the chair sags under her weight and she ends up leaning against the back cushions anyway, half-buried in it. It's the most comfortable couch she's ever sat on in her life, and that only adds to her nervousness, somehow.

Cynthia and Dawn are friendly and welcoming, less interested in her major than what she plans to do with it, unbothered by the fact that she's never handled an espresso machine before. At some point, it stops being an interview and just starts being a conversation; Dawn gets up to make them coffee and invites Crystal along, teaches her how to steam the milk and add flavor before the espresso goes in, and to add the milk to the cup immediately after.

"Lattes and mochas are easy," she says, taking the cup in one hand and shaking it as she pours in the milk and foam. A heart appears in seconds, drawn in tan and white on the latte's surface. "Here, you try it."

Crystal adds chocolate instead of caramel syrup and ends up with a mocha. Spooning the foam on top of the drink isn't quite the same, especially as she watches Dawn whip up a second drink, this one with a pine tree. Dawn just smiles at her. "You'll learn," she says as they walk back towards Cynthia, "I'll teach you."

She hands the heart latte to Cynthia, who looks up at her and smiles. "Thank you," she says, and their hands linger over the mug for a beat before Dawn takes the seat beside her again. Crystal adds the exchange to the way Dawn has been leaning comfortably against Cynthia's side all afternoon, and thinks, _Oh._

"So how soon can you start?" Cynthia asks.

"I haven't even filled out an application yet—"

Cynthia waves her hand, airily dismissive. "I'll give you one to fill out when you're at home," she says. "You can give it back on your first day. You seem perfect for this place," she says with a smile. 

Crystal blinks, almost wonders where the trick is, and then thinks she's been spending too much time with Silver, maybe. "I can start tomorrow," she says. She tries to keep the eagerness out of her voice, but from the way Dawn grins at her, she's probably not as successful as she would like.

"How about the day after that?" Cynthia replies. "Wednesday afternoons are usually our slowest time, so you can come then after your morning classes."

"Yeah," Crystal says, "Yes, that sounds great. I'll come then."

Cynthia stands to see her out, leaving Dawn to return to the kitchen in the back. The smell of baked goods and brewing coffee follows her out of the store and takes a moment to fade.

Crystal waits a whole block before she texts Silver one-handed, the drink in her hand warming her fingers. _I made you a mocha._

 _I don't drink those,_ he replies.

 _It's hot chocolate with caffeine,_ she types back slowly, giddy with accomplishment.

After a moment, her phone chimes. _I'm in the library._

\--

There's only one girl in the café when Crystal arrives on Wednesday. She sits at a table directly underneath the window, the afternoon sunlight gilding the hat jauntily perched on her hair. She's reading something on a tablet, scrolling with easy flicks of her index finger, her cheek propped in the palm of one hand. The girl looks up with a friendly smile, but soon directs her attention back to her screen.

"Oh, you're just in time," Dawn says when she steps into the kitchen. She's elbow-deep in bread dough. "Lyra's a regular—she likes the medium roast with soy milk and two spoonfuls of sugar. It shouldn't be too hard to make. The cup with the red hearts is hers."

Crystal takes a moment to hang her coat up against the back wall, using it to swallow down her stage fright. "Yeah, I can do it," she says.

Still, Dawn frowns apologetically at her when she turns around. "Sorry to throw this on you first thing," she says, "But I can't leave this, and Cynthia stepped out to get some more supplies. Just ask Lyra if you're not sure how much milk to add, okay? She's really nice."

Crystal returns to the store counter and glances at Lyra, who continues to read serenely, oblivious. She takes a breath and looks at the wall behind the register, where the coffee cups hang. The one with red hearts is easy to pick out—they're huge, splashed across the surface of the mug like flower petals. The mug is heavy when she takes it down from its peg, the surface smooth and wavy as she presses her fingers against it.

It's not hard to put the drink together, though she hesitates for a moment over how much milk to add exactly. "How much milk do you take?" she finally asks.

Lyra glances up. "Oh, you don't have to—I'll do it, hold on." The other girl gets up and walks to the counter, reaching over to grab the soy milk as Crystal sets her mug within easy reach. She adds in milk, smiling gently. Her eyeshadow is a brilliant blue, matching her nails and the scarf she's left hanging on the back of her chair.

"My grandmother calls it painting the coffee," Lyra says, "adding in milk, I mean."

"I've never heard that before," Crystal says.

"I'm Lyra, by the way. Did Dawn already tell you that?" Finished with the soy milk, she offers the carton to Crystal, who takes it and returns it to the fridge. 

"Yeah. I'm Crystal. I'm new here," she says, and then wants to kick herself, because that's probably obvious. Still, Lyra just smiles, picking her mug up in both hands.

"Nice to meet you! I love this place. They have the best baristas." It takes Crystal a moment to realize it's a sideways compliment, and then she smiles back. Lyra's eyes twinkle over the rim of her coffee cup.

"Mm, it's good. Thanks for the coffee, Crystal," she says, and returns to her table.

Lyra stays through the rest of Crystal's first shift, reading her tablet and, later, a textbook and, later still, nothing—just looking at the window at the passerby, twirling a pencil in her fingers. Dawn says a brief hello to Lyra when she emerges from the kitchen, but focuses her attention on teaching Crystal the ins and outs of the café—where everything is, and showing her how to make a few more drinks. 

Cynthia appears after an hour or so with bundles of bags on each arm and takes over the counter, freeing up Dawn to focus on the baking. "How's Garchomp been treating you?" she asks as she restocks the fridge.

Crystal jumps, pulling her gaze away from the girl at the window to look at Cynthia. The older woman smiles. "The espresso machine," she clarifies. "It's old, but they just don't make these like they used to. It was a gift from a friend of mine."

"She must be a good friend," Crystal says—she can't imagine how anyone could give up something this expensive and obviously well-loved.

"Yes, he is," she says, smiling fondly at it. "He owns a café himself.”

They work in companionable silence for a moment before Cynthia speaks again.

“Lyra's an art major,” she says, and nods towards the walls. “She painted all of our artwork. The mug she uses is one she made, too.”

“Really?” Crystal turns again to look at Lyra. At the weight of their combined stares, she looks up from whatever she's writing— _drawing,_ Crystal corrects herself.

“I'm telling Crystal that you're our resident artist,” Cynthia says. Lyra smiles, a little embarrassed but mostly proud.

“These aren't finished pieces or anything,” she says. “When I get something solid finished, I'll give you that instead.”

“A Lyra original,” Cynthia agrees. “Quite an honor.”

Crystal asks, “How long have you been drawing?”

“Oh, since forever,” Lyra says. “I've never wanted to do anything else.”

“Yeah,” Crystal says, “I can understand that.”

  
_I think I have a crush on a girl at work,_ Crystal texts Silver after Lyra finally leaves, right before closing time.

Silver replies, _That was fast._

\--  
May's reaction is much more dramatic; she sits up in bed, her eyes wide with delight. Crystal in the bed opposite resists the impulse to hide her face in her pillow. “Really! Who is it? I know there's that cute barista, but—”

“No—not anyone who works there,” she says hurriedly, “One of the regulars. Her name is Lyra.”

“Oh! I think I've heard of her—isn't she an art major? When I pass through Mahoney hall on the way to class, I see one of her pieces in the hallway,” she says. “Is she pretty? Did you talk to her?”

“You've never seen her?”

“No, just her work,” May says. “So?”

“She's...yes,” Crystal hedges.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, she's...cute,” Crystal says, flushing. May grins at her. “Oh, shut up,” Crystal says, and finally succumbs to burying her face in the pillow.

“What's she like?”

“...Nice.”

“Come _on,_ Crystal!”

“She has the most amazing smile and she draws and her makeup was gorgeous, okay?! Leave me alone,” Crystal moans, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “Why did I even tell you?”

"Because you know if you went to Silver you'd come out with more problems than you went in with, and then you'd just have to come to me anyway!"

“Actually, he didn't say much of anything.”

“Probably for the best,” May says. “So how are you going to win her over?”

“I never said anything about that,” Crystal says feebly.

May rolls her eyes. “Pining from afar is totally out of the question,” she says. “It's not like you, anyway.”

She's right—it's not—but Crystal knows, somewhat instinctively, that even if she looked it up, she wouldn't find an answer to _How to make a girl fall in love with you._

“Just talk to her,” May suggests. “Or I could, if you—”

 _”No,”_ Crystal says, then sighs. “No, I mean, it's fine. I'll just...yeah, I'll talk to her.”

\--

Lyra comes by on weekday afternoons, even if it's just to fill her travel mug. There's always something about her that catches Crystal's eye—one day, she's wearing glittery ankle boots and thigh-high stockings; another time her lipstick is a bright coral pink that Crystal has to actively work not to stare at. Crystal catches Cynthia's amused glances, the way she leans over to whisper conspiratorially with Dawn, and blushes hard.

“Maybe you should put me in the back for a while,” she pleads. “You two can teach me how to bake.”

“And let you miss your chance at romance?” Cynthia says. “Never.”

Crystal glances down. “I'm—I'm sorry. It's not very professional,” she mumbles, but Cynthia just laughs.

“I used to be a lawyer for Stone & Associates,” she says, “and every day, I'd visit the same café and see the same cute barista.” Dawn blushes a little at this. “So you could say that I'm not unfamiliar with these things.”

“You were a _lawyer_?” Crystal asks. “Why did you give it up?”

“Small business was a lucrative venture that also allowed me more time to pursue my other interests,” she says. Then she winks, and adds, “The work was ruining my health, coffee makes me happy, and I'm surrounded by friends and loved ones. That should be enough reason for anyone, I think.”

Dawn leans up on tiptoe to kiss Cynthia's cheek, and they share a glance before Dawn turns back to the espresso machine.

So don't apologize,” Cynthia says. “Follow your heart. Besides, who ever heard of a professional café?”

\--

As the months pass, Crystal learns about nail polish and fashion, art and music, and tentatively tries to talk about it with Lyra, who responds by lending her nail polishes to try, sending her fashion blogs to visit and, on one memorable occasion, trying to teach Crystal how to apply eyeliner.

“It's easier if you pull your eyelid a little when you're applying it,” she says. “That way, you only have to do one straight stroke, like this—“ the crayon sweeps across her eyelid and flicks up at the outside corner, and Crystal tries not to shiver.

Lyra's glamorous in an unconscious way, nibbling gently at the end of her paintbrush before she streaks it across the paper, her twintails bobbing gently as her whole body moves with the stroke. Crystal, sweeping the floor nearby, leans over to get a better look.

“It's nothing yet,” Lyra says, “I'm just doodling.”

“What's it going to be?” Crystal asks.

Lyra's fingers drum against the tabletop. “The ocean,” Lyra says finally. “I just wish I could go see it.”

“Why can't you?”

“It's an hour away by car, and none of my friends know how to drive.” Lyra glances up. “Do you?”

“No, but I have a friend who does,” Crystal says.

Lyra's eyes light up.

  
  
_Are you doing anything this weekend?_

_Studying. Why?_

_How would you feel about driving me and a friend to the beach?_

_It's November._

_You don't have to get out of the car._

_This is May's idea, isn't it._

_No, it's...the girl I like._

_..._

_I'll be in your debt.  
Free drinks from my job forever._

_...  
What time._

\--

Upon meeting, Lyra and Silver immediately pick up a playful banter; Lyra leans forward and rests her weight against Crystal's seat, laughing at Silver's dry one-liners. Crystal fiddles with the music dial until Silver gives her a look, and then leans against the back of the seat, trying not to flinch when Lyra's gestures get particularly wild.

“Crystal, you've never even told me your major,” Lyra says, suddenly turning to her. This close, Crystal can see the faint freckles that dust the bridge of her nose, and swallows.

“Oh, um, I'm doubling in animal behavior and bio.”

“So you like animals?” Crystal nods. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go into field research,” she says. “Learn about animal evolution through observing their behavior patterns and how they've adapted to suit their environment.” Silver snorts—he's heard Crystal wax poetic about animal science many times before—but Lyra seems fascinated, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Do you have an animal you're thinking about focusing on?”

“Not yet, really,” Crystal admits. “I think they're all interesting. I suppose it depends on the internships I get. What about you? Do you have a favorite animal?”

Lyra shakes her head. “I love all of them,” she says. “I volunteer at the shelter all the time. Just this past weekend, we got in two ferrets whose owners had moved away...”

The drive is over faster than Crystal would have liked.

\--

Silver stays in the car. “It's too cold,” he says. “Have fun, I guess.”

Crystal mouths _Thank you_ at him behind Lyra's back, and is rewarded with a slight smile before he reaches into the backseat for his class notes. The two girls walk towards the beach, feeling the wind slice through their clothes. Crystal wishes she'd brought a scarf; Lyra's is pulled up to cover her nose and mouth, her eyes bright over the thick knitted wool and high spots of color on her cheeks. Crystal just turns her collar up and jams her hands into her pockets.

The roar of the ocean lures them past the boardwalk and over the sand dunes until they're standing on wet sand, just barely out of the ocean's splashing range.

“Wow,” Lyra breathes. “I really missed this.”

The ocean is slate-gray, and the tide is receding, curling with foam. “I grew up by the ocean, you know,” Lyra continues. “It's weird, being so inland.” She stretches languorously, one arm high over her head as her back arches. “I'd like to travel,” she says. “I used to watch the ships leaving the harbor all the time, and wonder where they were going. I want to see it myself.”

“Me, too,” Crystal says. “There's so much out there to explore—so much that we don't know.”

Lyra turns to her, and there's something different in her smile this time—something soft and private, an understanding instead of her usual politeness or good cheer. “That's why I like to draw—I want to capture everything that I see, everything I know...tell other people about it. I don't want to just paint the ocean—I want to show you the places it can take you, the life inside of it. All of it at once.”

Crystal nods. “Animals aren't that different from people,” she says. “Through an animal's evolution you can trace how the land has changed, where it's been, what it's survived. I want to find that: the history of a species and the world it lives in.”

“Yes,” Lyra replies, eyes bright. “Yes.”

–

Crystal sits beside Lyra in the sand, watching as she draws sketch after sketch. Quick movements of her hand capture the curl of a wave, the ripple of sunlight upon the water. Inversely, she draws a seagull with painstaking accuracy, etching in feathers as they shade from white to gray.

“They're just sketches,” she says, as she always does.

“They're beautiful,” Crystal says.

The tone of her voice makes Lyra turn. She searches Crystal's face before quietly saying, “Thank you.”

Lyra bends her head again, her pastel stick shaping the beak, the proud arch of its neck. Crystal hesitates—and then rests her head against Lyra's shoulder, wordlessly.

The sketching stops. Crystal stares at the moving tide, trying to stay relaxed, ready to play it off as a joke if she has to. Lyra doesn't say anything, but after a moment she turns her head so that her cheek presses against Crystal's forehead.

“Let me draw you next time,” Lyra murmurs.

“Okay,” Crystal whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> —Garchomp (the espresso machine) was a present from Wallace, who also owns the café where Dawn used to work.  
> —Kassiope is a spelling variation of [Casseiopeia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassiopeia_%28mythology%29).


End file.
